


Unconditional

by Persephone



Series: Morocco [1]
Category: Kingdom of Heaven (2005) RPF
Genre: Daddy Kink, Hand Jobs, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:43:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone/pseuds/Persephone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam has just arrived in Morocco, and the cast all go out to dinner. Orlando develops fantasies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unconditional

They were seated as soon as they entered the small, hot restaurant. It was himself, Jeremy, David, Marton, whom he already knew from New Zealand, and Liam Neeson. Orlando sat in the chair next to Liam. Next to, but not close. He smiled up at the waiter as he came around with a water jug.

The restaurant was dark and slightly muggy, the ceiling fans displacing hot air only to move it to another part of the room. But they were all dressed in light muslin and linen which they had quickly acquired on arriving in Morocco. Jeremy looked especially nice, wearing a long dark blue embroidered shift favored by the gentlemen of the city. Orlando smiled at him and got a warm smile in return.

They conversed about the film production for a few minutes before the conversation shifted to Liam’s professional whereabouts before he’d flown down to join them in Morocco. Orlando kept his smile on, feeling slightly warmer, and lowered his unseeing gaze to the menu before him.

Liam had arrived on set later than the rest of them, yesterday morning. So it had now been a day and a half, but Orlando still couldn’t stop staring. Even now, when he wasn’t looking at him, he was staring. And his heart was pounding out a slow dark beat.

It didn’t seem real that he was sitting this close to him. That Liam Neeson was an arm’s length away from him. They had yet to do a scene together, that wasn’t until tomorrow, so this was the closest yet he had gotten to him.

He was big. Massive. Like a siege tower. His hands were as large as the plates on the table and his legs seemed as long as most men were tall. Half the physical presence around the table seemed to be his.

And for the next five months he was going to be his father.

Carefully, Orlando swallowed the saliva that flooded his mouth. Carefully, because he didn’t want to swallow too loudly. Then he realized he was licking his lips, rubbing them together, chewing on them.

He held off making any more movements. Instead, as the waiter went around their table pouring water into their glasses, he made the effort to look around and smile calmly at Jeremy, at David, and at Marton. They all smiled back.

When the waiter got to Liam’s glass Orlando saw his own hand reach out and move the glass slightly closer to the jug, held it steady as if it wasn’t already sitting on a flat surface.

Then, so that it wouldn’t look strange, he did the same for his own glass.

He withdrew his hand and brought it down to his side, smiling politely at Liam. Liam sat back in his chair with one arm over the back and swept his eyes over him, down, and then up. From his face to his feet and back up.

Then he locked eyes with Orlando’s waiting ones. Orlando’s heart kicked in his chest and he opened his mouth to say “No, sir!” before realizing Liam had not asked him anything.

Liam turned back to the rest of the table with a miniscule pull on the corner of his mouth. Otherwise, he gave no other acknowledgement.

The whole thing had taken a second of time. No one had noticed anything.

Orlando felt his face burn, but kept his congenial smile through the rushing of his blood.

He had _heard_ Liam ask him if he was touching himself. Without permission.

He shifted his chair closer into the table so that his lower half was now completely hidden under it. He sat on his right hand and picked up his water glass with his left one and sipped from it.

Liam had joined in the conversation that was going on around the table. Orlando tried to listen, but when Liam spoke with that voice of his he felt as if the skin of his groin was being gently abraded with a rough towel.

And in the morning that voice was going to call him “son” and leave marks on his skin.

He slowly got up from his chair and placed the napkin from his lap onto the table’s edge. He excused himself without looking at anyone and headed for the men’s room.

The room had elegant mosaic walls and the cubicles were spacious. He entered one and rested his forehead on his arm and breathed, “Oh Christ,” with a shaking voice.

He pushed his hand down into the waistband of his black slacks and glided over his half-hard but already wet erection. His hips pushed slowly forward, into the wall of the cubicle.

Then he forced his hips back, forced his hand past his cock and squeezed his balls instead, tightening his thumb and forefinger around them.

He gently pulled down and breathed out fully for several seconds. Then he pulled his hand out and remained there and counted to twenty before leaving the cubicle and washing his hands at the sink.

Back at the table, they were giving their orders, and he was developing a love for Moroccan food but he couldn’t taste anything tonight.

He acted through their dinner, pretending to be fine, and did a good job of it. Then they all stood up to move to a room in the back for smoking and drinking mint tea.

Orlando stood up a moment before Liam did, and when Liam stood to his full height his lips were level with the top of Orlando’s forehead. Orlando noted that before stepping to one side. When they began moving he got directly behind Liam and followed him out of the room.

There were no chairs here, only dark cushions on the carpeted floor, dim lights and hookahs. They sat on the cushions and Orlando pulled his knees up and placed his forearms on them. He stared at the hookah on a low table in their midst. There were six mouthpieces, enough so that they could all smoke at the same time.

So he was going to suck on that thing while…

He looked up to see that Liam was now sitting with his back against the wall, his face almost completely in shadow. He was looking at Orlando.

Orlando sat perfectly still, staring at the water pipe, responding to comments that were being said to him. The others leaned in and began to smoke while their mint teas arrived. Jeremy told him to take a puff. He nodded and moved forward, keeping his eyes on the pipe.

When his lips closed around the glass mouthpiece he looked up. Liam hadn’t moved, and his expression hadn’t changed. Orlando’s teeth slid on the glass of the mouthpiece as he pulled away from it, his heart beating painfully loud.

David moved off his cushion and left for the men’s room. Where David had sat was right next to where Liam sat. Orlando found himself moving onto the empty cushions. He pulled himself into the slightly receded space so that now they were both mostly in shadow. But he didn’t turn to look at him.

The other two were deep in conversation, their heads bent together. It didn’t matter what they saw or heard, they were all in the same situation; they would protect each other’s privacy. Orlando shifted, moved cushions around and out of their way so that there was nothing between their bodies. But they still weren’t touching. He hadn’t been asked.

“Look at me,” he was quietly being told. Orlando turned and smiled up at him. “Are you prepared for this?”

Orlando nodded. “I never thought anything like this would ever happen to me. But I want it.” He swallowed. “Badly.”

Liam watched his face. “I don’t doubt that you do. And you’re in good hands… Ridley will see that you do alright.”

Orlando nodded again, and waited.

“So will I,” Liam said. He rested his head back against the wall. “Son.”

Orlando pushed himself into the space he had created from getting rid of the cushions. “Yes, Father,” he said hoarsely, and placed his hand on his thigh so Liam could see that he wasn’t touching himself.

Liam’s eyelids drifted open a fraction so that he could see just that. Orlando watched the slivers of dark irises slide over to him.

There was movement as David had returned, raised one eyebrow at his lost seat, and declared he was tired and going back to his trailer. Jeremy and Marton expressed the same sentiments and stood up. They said subdued goodbyes while Marton smiled slowly at Orlando. Then they left.

The waiter appeared and cleared most of the cups and platters off their table. He brought more mint tea, but since the hookah was clearly forgotten he didn’t replenish it.

Liam hadn’t moved at all, and seemed to be asleep with his head tilted back against the wall. Orlando looked down between Liam’s legs, one pulled up and bent at the knee, the other turned outward. It was too dark to see anything down there. But there was so much room in there. His whole body could fit so easily.

“You’ll do as I tell you,” the voice instructed gruffly.

“Yes, Father.”

“Do you know why?” He wasn’t expected to answer. Liam turned and looked straight at him. Orlando licked and scraped his teeth on his lips and stared back. The corner of Liam’s lips pulled up slightly. “Yea, I think you do.”

Orlando didn’t have to nod. They both knew he did. A son was owned by his father.

“Put your hand between your legs.”

Finally, it was happening… Orlando pressed his shaking hand against his inner thigh and found he had to push his legs apart. His body felt too heavy, as though he were under water. It was responding to what it wanted to hear the most, becoming languid under its own need. His leg fell to the side and he carefully closed his hand over his rigid erection.

His eyelids dropped halfway but they still stared at each other.

“Unzip your trousers, son.”

He did it slowly to prevent the sound of the zipper being too loud.

“Let me see you.”

Orlando was hissing quietly now, his legs twitching as he pulled out his cock and encased it in the warm sheath of this hand, letting the leaking head protrude from his fist. He lifted it up for Liam to see. He got a soft grunt of approval before he turned and pressed his head into Liam’s shoulder, breathing into the linen shirt.

“Stroke yourself.”

He squeezed himself gently and his hips bucked into his hand, making him pant. He wasn’t going to last. At all. He let his moans escape quietly into Liam’s shoulder.

Liam turned his face down to Orlando’s temple and whispered, “Do you want your father to do that for you?” Orlando choked on his breath and nodded. “I will,” he was promised. “Next time.”

Orlando fisted his cock while his other hand gripped a fistful of Liam’s shirt. Low, deep sounds resonated from Liam’s chest. “That’s good,” he was being told thickly. Oh god, it was happening. His hand slicked over his tight flesh, faster and faster. “I think you like doing filthy things for your father to see.”

Orlando groaned long and low. “Oh god, d-daddy,” he panted, “daddy, daddy,” he twisted the shirt in his grip, “you’re gonna make me come…”

“I know,” Liam whispered soothingly. Orlando bit down on his shoulder to stifle his cries. Liam reached over and placed his huge hand on Orlando’s shuddering thigh and in two more strokes Orlando came so hard he saw stars.

Minutes later his breathing was still not altogether normal. He had had full on sex episodes that hadn’t come close to having this effect on him.

Liam had taken some napkins off the table and tried to discreetly clean him off, but it was less conspicuous if he just used his to body to provide cover instead while Orlando did the cleaning. It was Monday night, the restaurant was all but empty, and the back room held only the two of them. But the waiter needn’t see anything he wasn’t prepared for.

Orlando cleaned off and shoved the napkins in his pocket. Liam stood up and extended a hand to him, which he took and used to pull himself upright.

Liam smiled down at him, then wrapped his arm around his shoulder, kissed his temple, and walked him back to his trailer.

The next morning they got into costume, arrived on the set, and became father and son.

~*~

 _End_


End file.
